One Too Many
by GranthamGal
Summary: Crack!Fic. Robert's favorite butterscotch biscuits are tampered with by a disgruntled employee. Hilarity ensues.


_A/N: This little story was born out of a tumblr post regarding Robert and some "marijuana tablets" and I blame tumblr completely for being such a horribly influence on me ;)_

_This is an absolute Crack!fic and is meant to be taken with a grain of salt...or with a crumb of biscuit..._

_Oh! And the term funny cigarette is 1920's speak for pot/a joint/marijuana/whatever the kids are calling it these days. _

* * *

Lord Grantham had it coming.

He was smug, overblown and prone to shows of ostentatious wealth. His entire estate seemed to rise and fall on his whims and everyone in the house looked at him like some sort of god.

Lord Grantham probably wouldn't even know his name if they bumped right into each other. For he was just a hall boy, only useful for staying unseen whilst sweeping up dirt, and was of little importance to the great Lord of the house. He had only worked at Downton Abbey for just over a month, anyway, but the end of the day was all he would see.

Reprimanded for smoking a laughing cigarette out back, it was late in the afternoon when the first footman discovered him, and soon after he was called into see Mr. Carson. He was told that sort of behavior was not tolerated at Downton. And with a week's wages he was dismissed. He stormed through the servants' hall and tore up the stairs to collect his belongings, all the while cursing the great house full of almighty people who thought they were so much better than a measly hall boy.

It was too late to walk to the village and so he would leave come morning.

After packing his suitcase, making sure to stow the remaining cigarettes safely away, he wandered past the kitchen just as a minor disagreement was breaking out.

"_But why must we make the butterscotch biscuits? His Lordship's the only one who ever eats them!" Daisy exclaimed._

"_Because the last time I checked, it was his Lordship who ran this house!" Mrs. Patmore replied, stirring the mixture and rolling her eyes at the young girl. _

_Daisy only nodded and took the bowl as Mrs. Patmore set it on the counter. "I'm off to check the cupboard for more sugar, stir this until I get back."_

He watched as Daisy stirred the biscuit mixture for another moment before peeking down the hall. She set the bowl back down and headed off in the direction of the toilets, muttering something about never getting a break.

And as Daisy left, he saw his chance. Not thinking deeply on the ramifications, he pulled one of his special cigarettes out of his pocket and unrolled it with the clumsy movements of a very inexperienced criminal. He dropped the contents into the biscuit mixture and stirred it before smiling with satisfaction and wandering off to the servants hall to spend his remaining hours at Downton knowing that the Earl was about to be knocked down a peg or two.

* * *

Robert Crawley had a most enjoyable dinner. Well, as enjoyable as could possibly be. Cora had insisted on allowing Sybbie to dine at the table like a "big girl" and he had been on the receiving end of some splattered food. Cora and Tom seemed rather amused by the display and while he hadn't the heart to scold the little girl, he had half a mind to speak to her nanny about instilling some more appropriate table manners in her!

Desserts were brought out just as the last dinner plates cleared. There were several chocolate tarts and various puddings being passed around but Robert's eyes immediately zeroed in on the heaping plate of butterscotch biscuits set before him.

Cora smiled knowingly and nudged the plate a bit closer. "Go on, then. Eat them now so you're not ringing down for extras later," she chuckled.

Everyone at the table chuckled as well, knowing full well how Robert loved his butterscotch biscuits. And so he smiled along with their teasing, taking just a few more than he normally might, and popped them into his mouth with great flourish, eliciting giggles from both his wife and granddaughter.

The family herded themselves into the drawing room for drinks soon after. It was only midway through his second glass of port that Robert began to feel a bit off. He looked down at his glass warily, as if it was more potent than usual, and left it on the desk for a footman to pick up. He really was getting on in years if two glasses of port could do him in so quickly.

He took a seat on the closest chair and gazed around the room, feeling rather pleased. He was not exactly sure why, but suddenly had a feeling of such serenity, and the notion that everything around him was wonderful just filled the entire room. He caught Cora staring from her place opposite him and she looked at him oddly.

"Darling are you feeling quite alright?" She stood and approached, reaching for his hand.

"Oh, yes. Yes, perfectly fine!" He exclaimed a bit louder than intended. But when he stood to prove just how perfectly fine he was, the room began to sway, and suddenly he felt a little less alright than he had moments earlier.

Cora frowned again, which confused him, and motioned over for Tom and one of the footmen. He was not paying particular attention to the words coming out of his wife's mouth anymore, but Robert heard her say something about taking him upstairs. He only smiled dumbly at her as he was led away, and waved, bidding everyone in the room a very good night.

* * *

The dinner had run much later than Cora anticipated. Dismissing O'Brien just past midnight, Cora decided that she would simply get herself ready for bed. She was wearing a simple dress and lately the new fashions made having an extra set of hands almost superfluous. She expected to find her bedroom dark and her husband snoring off the effects of his port, but Cora was met with a dimly lit room and an empty bed. She certainly had not expected Robert to go sleep in his dressing room. Cora had not seen exactly how much port he'd consumed, but it was unlike Robert to drink to excess, in the middle of the week no less, and so she simply thought some rest would help easy the pain of a thick head come morning.

Perhaps she had upset him by sending him to bed like a child in front of everyone.

She approached her wardrobe and began sorting out her nightclothes when she became aware of a soft scraping noise that sounded like it was coming from the far wall of the bedroom. Pausing, she stilled her hands and waited to see if the noise would come again. Perhaps they had a mouse? She shuddered at the thought and continued rifling through her drawers to find the nightdress she wanted.

But seconds later, a scuffling noise, louder than the one moments earlier, was perceptible again. It sounded almost like Isis padding across the floor of the hall, but she had left Isis asleep in the corner of the drawing room.

And as she listened to the odd noises, not only did Cora realize that she was not hearing things, it dawned on her that the noises were coming from Robert's dressing room. Tiptoeing toward the connecting door, Cora pressed her ear to the wood frame and listened.

She stood very still, utterly baffled, and listened for several seconds to what sounded like muffled giggles. Giggles in the tone of her husband's voice.

"What on earth?" Cora muttered to herself. She rolled her eyes. No doubt he was reading some ridiculous crime novel again. He always got much too engrossed in the silly things. Perhaps she could find a more pleasing way of distracting him.

Cora curled her hand around the knob and tried to push it open, but was met with resistance, as if something was pressed against the door from the other side.

She tried again but was unsuccessful, the door jammed almost completely. "…Robert?" She ventured, now feeling slight alarm.

The giggling stopped completely. "Who goes there?" He called out suspiciously.

"Robert? What on earth are you doing in there?"

She listened as he stifled another giggle. "Cora?" He asked. There was another rustling noise, followed by more prolonged silence.

"Yes, Robert. Of course it's me. What are you doing in there? Why won't the door open?"

"Go to the other door, my Darling dearest wife!" He sang out.

"Robert I—" Cora paused, as she was interrupted yet again by his giggles, and turned on her heels to leave her bedroom and go through the other door. If this was some sort of bizarre joke he was in for it. She turned the knob to his dressing room door with slight trepidation and had to cover her mouth to suppress a gasp upon seeing what could only be described as something out of her wildest dreams on display before her.

The mattress had been pulled off of the sensibly sized dressing room bed and it teetered off the bed frame, erecting a sort of triangular tent shape. The sheets and blankets had been stripped from the bed and were now hanging over the sides of the mattress all the way to the bedside table. It was like some sort of little bunker crafted out of their fine linens.

"Good…Lord...Robert…?" Cora could not manage much, because as her eyes scanned over the mass of confusion and blankets before her, Robert's head popped out from inside the fort, his eyes wide and his smile twisted into a strange expression.

"Oh good, you're here!" He exclaimed. He reached one hand out from inside and motioned for Cora to approach.

Stunned into a stupefied sort of silence, Cora approached the door of the little hut, kneeling down until she was level with her husband's face. "Darling, I know you had a bit of port earlier, but—"

"Shhhhhh!" Robert hushed her, drawing his finger to his mouth. "Cora, you mustn't say anything until we get inside."

"Inside where?"

He looked at her incredulously and gestured at the tent from which his head was still protruding. "Inside Fort Downton, Darling Sweetest Cora."

"This is…Fort Downton?" Cora ventured, peeking into the tent.

Robert nodded enthusiastically and reached up at her wrist, pulling her closer and opening one of the flaps to allow her inside.

The interior of Robert's creation was rather dark, save for the soft glow of one oil lamp resting on the floor in the very far corner. There were several pillows strewn about, and it took nearly a moment before Cora realized that Robert's pajamas were on the floor as well. He was sitting before her, cross-legged, in only his undergarments.

"Robert, what is going on?" Cora cried, feeling incredibly disturbed by this display of insanity. She had heard about aristocrats cracking under the pressures of the post-war world, and their family certainly had not had the easiest year, but she never expected to find her sweet, methodical husband sitting in a patched up tent in his drawers!

He only grinned at her frantic question. Gesturing for her to sit beside him, Cora crawled over, feeling she had no other option than to go along with it for the moment, and he took her hands. "Now I must tell you something, but you must promise not to tell _her _about it." He explained.

"Alright," Cora sighed. Perhaps it was she who was cracking up. It was beyond her comprehension and she felt rather like a leaf blowing in the wind, unable to take hold of her own situation. "What must you tell me?"

Robert looked stoic for a moment and peered around the dark space as if looking for something. "I know _she _is listening," he muttered. "But it's no matter, for I've got it all under control." He squeezed her hands before taking a breath and continuing. "You see there is something I must tell you," he breathed, his eyes alight with excitement.

Cora nodded mechanically, willing herself not to scream. "I see," she replied.

Robert looked around once more before leaning in just a bit closer. "I feel, and I have felt for some time now, that I am in possession of a magical power."

"…I see," Cora repeated.

"Yes," Robert confirmed, pausing to stick his head out of Fort Downton to survey the premises. "And I do not want you to be alarmed, Cora, because I plan to only use this power for good, because you see when one is gifted one must use that gift for—would you like a biscuit?" He interrupted himself mid sentence and rummaged around on the floor until he found his discarded trousers and reached deep into the pocket, pulling out a crushed butterscotch biscuit a moment later.

He looked so very pleased with himself, and Cora wondered if perhaps it would be unkind to shout at a person who was mentally unwell. So she took the proffered biscuit and took a bite, smiling her thanks as she chewed.

"You were saying you have a power?" She asked, swallowing the last of the biscuit.

"Yes…but just one moment, it's time for my watch." He stood, and rummaged around the mess again, this time pulling out the cricket bat he kept in his wardrobe. "I must make sure that _she_ has not gotten wind of my plans, you see." He disappeared behind the tent flap and she heard him trudge out to the hallway, walk what sounded like a large circle, and return moments later. "All clear," he assured her.

"Who are you looking for, Dear?" Cora inquired, feeling slightly less disturbed as she reached inside his trouser pocket for another biscuit.

He frowned as he took his place beside her. "You know I won't talk about _her_ inside the walls of Fort Downton, it is my duty to keep us safe."

Cora shrugged and licked the crumbs from her fingers. "These are rather good."

But Robert was not listening. His head was poking out from the tent again and he had his cricket bat in hand. "She is baiting me…" He muttered. "But I know her tricks! I've used my power to ascertain precisely what she plans to do."

"What _is _your power, then?"

He narrowed his eyes again and looked over his shoulder one last time. "If I tell you, you must solemnly swear to never tell anyone. And should you tell, I will have to send you away from Fort Downton for all of eternity."

"I promise!" Cora replied, startled by the enthusiasm in her voice.

"I have the ability to read the minds of others," he said simply.

Dumbfounded, Cora only stared as he grabbed for another biscuit and continued his explanation. "The powers were in hiding, you see, until tonight. I saw her whilst on my way upstairs and I read her mind. I knew in that moment that she planned to usurp me as master of Downton. But I am too smart for her. For I have built us this new Downton where we shall live and it is much safer, really. She will never locate us now."

Cora nodded again; as it seemed to be the only physical gesture she was capable of any more. She studied the biscuit in her hand, wondering momentarily why they tasted so unusually delicious, before popping the last bit into her mouth.

* * *

Nearly an hour passed as Robert explained in more extensive detail the plan he had to locate the one who was trying to usurp him. Cora became more and more engrossed in the story and before long, overwhelmed by the hot air in the fort, she too had stripped down to only her slip and underthings. By the time he finished outlining his strategy of attack, they had finished the remaining biscuits stuffed in Robert's pockets and were babbling on about how to make their first move.

It was Cora who suggested they attack from the main staircase.

Creeping down the stairway, Cora wielding a large anthology of Romantic poetry and Robert holding his cricket bat, the two approached the door to the drawing room and paused outside.

"Are you sure we must do this?" She suddenly looked unsure of their carefully drawn out plan, and Robert sighed in exasperated annoyance.

"Yes, we must attack now while she least expects it." He lifted his bat up in the air, as if ready to club someone, and tentatively pushed open the door.

"There she is!" Cora shouted, pointing frantically toward the corner of the room.

Robert laughed giddily and skipped across the length of the room, still swinging his bat around as he approached his target. "We've found you, Isis. The game is up!" He cried excitedly.

"Robert you're not going to hit her with that, are you?" Cora asked, wandering over toward him.

"No, no of course not. I've just brought it in case she refuses to sign our peace treaty." He reached down below the waistband of his drawers and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper moments later.

It read:

_I Lord Master Robert Crawley of Fort Downton of My Dressing Room and my wife Cora also Crawley who resides with me at Fort Downton do promise not to instigate any harsh actions against Isis Crawley so long as she does solemnly swear to never usurp me as master. And she must also promise not to walk too quickly because sometimes I return from our walks and my feet feel rather tired. Also she must never come into Cora's room whilst I am in there because it makes me quite uncomfortable when she sees Cora and I without our trousers on. And she may never read our minds." _

Both Lord and Lady of the house had signed the bottom of the official document. Robert thrust it at Isis, who blinked sleepily at her disrobed masters and let out a yawn before adjusting herself on her pillow.

Cora shrugged at their foe's blasé attitude, as she was already bored with their game, and flopped down on the settee. "Robert perhaps you read her mind incorrectly," Cora whined.

"NO! I most certainly did not. Isis is not master here, I am! And she will sign our peace treaty or she will move to the servants' quarters to live in Bates' room and never be seen of again." He stomped his foot for emphasis, loudly enough to wake the slumbering dog before him.

Isis stood with a sharp bark and ran out of the room, leaving both Robert and Cora wide eyed with horror.

"Robert, I think she's gone to draw up support," Cora murmured, biting at her fingernail nervously.

"Yes, perhaps you're right. But two can play at that game!" He crumpled up the paper in his hands and gestured for Cora to follow him. "Come on then, we've got to draw up our own support."

Cora nodded in agreement. "I think Sybbie might help us," she offered. "I saw her talking to Isis this afternoon. Well she was only babbling but I think Isis understood what she was saying."

Robert clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Perfect. She can be our liaison. We'll have her amended to the treaty come morning."

Robert and Cora ran back up the stairs and into the dressing room, hurling themselves back into Fort Downton as quickly as they could. They began drafting new battle plans, but Robert soon found his attentions fixed on the smell of Cora's perfume and the melodic tone of her laugh, instead of the best way to come at Isis in the morning.

Only moments after their return, they became entangled in the sheets and in one another, rolling around the floor of Robert's makeshift camp and effectively forgetting the task at hand. Lips found skin and their sighs and groans were uninhibited by the usual decorum they practiced, knowing they'd a house full of people.

* * *

It was nearly eleven o'clock the next morning and the Lord and Lady of the house were nowhere to be seen. Neither had rang for their maid or valet and there was an eerie silence descended over their rooms.

Robert and Cora were still sleeping, well into the morning, their nude bodies pressed against one another and covered with twisted sheets and residual biscuit crumbs. The fort had collapsed sometime during their second go, late in the night, and they mourned the loss by shifting positions and rolling out from beneath the mattress, not bothering to get up from the floor.

When they did finally wake, hours later, it was to mutual looks of bewilderment. It was Cora who noticed the peace treaty stuck to Robert's bare bottom, and they read it with utter disturbance.

Agreeing to never speak of whatever happened, as the details were fuzzy for them both, they parted company for the afternoon and did not reconvene until nearly dinnertime when they headed into the library together.

Just as they entered the room, Isis came trotting out and glanced up at them.

They exchanged a concerned look but neither said anything.

Robert was quite sure that the dog was laughing at them.

* * *

_I told you to take it with a grain of salt :)_


End file.
